


Break In

by Stydia (Zady)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 02:44:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2294012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zady/pseuds/Stydia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia is caught up in a mystery. First she finds Stiles handcuffed to the Sheriff's desk, then there's a strange blackout. Parrish isn't who he seems and something odd is happening to all the werewolves in Beacon Hills, they're slowly losing their powers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stiles

“Hello? Anybody?”

Stiles’ voice echoed through the empty police station. He was fed up with being attached to the desk. His father’s handcuffs were chafing his wrist and he couldn’t stray too far from the desk.

A door slammed. Stiles jumped. After many long hours chained to his desk he had become very sensitive to any sudden loud noises.

The office door handle was being turned. Stiles allowed himself to hope; maybe his father had come back for him. He knew these punishments could last for many hours, sometimes well into the night. Perhaps tonight he would be let off early.

The person still fumbled at the door. Stiles now knew that whoever it was who was at the door was not his father. The Sheriff had keys to the office and would have been in far quicker than this.

The door creaked open. The dim light from the office created a silvery path on the floor, lighting up the pitch black room. Initially Stiles thought that there was no one there but then he looked down. Lydia was kneeling, her hands and eyes the height of the door handle. She stood gracefully, despite her high heels and removed a small wire object from the keyhole.

“I didn’t know you knew how to lock pick,” Stiles commented. By this time he had relaxed his stance, recognising the red hair, red lips and pale skin of the girl he had been in love with since the third grade.

Lydia jumped at the voice. She clearly hadn’t expected anyone to be there that night.

“Stiles?” She exclaimed. Then she lowered her voice. “What are you doing here?”

Stiles sat on the desk, his hand tied lower to the desk. This odd stance gave his posture a tilt. He rolled with it, trying to pretend like his hand wasn’t causing him a great deal of angst. “I’m kind of stuck here,” he said good naturedly.

“Oh.” Lydia switched on the room light. Stiles winced as his pupils, adjusted for the dim surroundings, dilated massively as they rejected the sudden influx of light. “Oh,” Lydia said again, taking in the sight of a handcuffed Stiles.

Stiles watched the change of expression on Lydia’s face. It was almost unreadable but Stiles could still pick out the subtle changes in features, it was a skill that came with knowing her for the majority of his life. She looked shocked and… flustered.

He indicated his wrist. “A little help here?”

Lydia hesitated.

“Wait,” Stiles said slowly. “What are you doing here?”

“Um…” Lydia dodged that question, instead walking over to Stiles and busying herself with lock picking his handcuff.

“Since when do you know how to use those things?” Stiles asked, indicating the assortment of lock picks Lydia carried with her, all of them fashioned into delicate hair pins.

“I learnt them this afternoon,” she replied absently, focusing on the careful task of making the tumblers in the lock click over to open.

The locks sprung open. “What are you doing here?” Stiles asked again.

Lydia looked up at him, her doe eyes alarmed. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

Stiles thought she was the most beautiful human being he had ever seen, which is why he did what he did next. Wrapping his hand in her hair, he removed the lock pick pins. While doing this he gazed into her eyes and with his peripheral vision closed the cuff around Lydia’s slim wrist.

“What-“

Stiles silenced her with a kiss. He drew back slowly. “It’s for your own good. Who knows what might have happened to you if you were caught.” Deftly he stepped back as Lydia’s arm reached out to entrap his own. Then she reached up to her hair.

It was with surprise that she realised that Stiles had taken her lock picks. Usually she was the one to get the jump on Stiles, not the other way around. Her strawberry hair curled around her head, framing her face delicately. “Stiles give it back.”

“What, these?” He raised the picks to his eyes, examining them. “These aren’t just for recreational use. What are you searching for?”

Lydia pulled at the handcuff. As much as Stiles wanted to know why Lydia was there, he couldn’t bear to see her trapped like this. He huffed out a sigh, rubbing his own raw wrist. He approached Lydia and gave her back the lock picks. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said.

She peered at him through her eyelashes. “Trust me, I do. I’m doing this to help you.”

“Then why can’t you tell me?” Stiles asked, exasperated.

“It’s for your own good.” There was a click as the handcuffs sprung open. Lydia freed her wrist, her fingers gently tracing the mark the cuffs had left.

Stiles’ expression softened. “Here let me see that.” He gently took Lydia’s small wrist into his large hands. He lifted and twisted it, looking at it from every angle. Lydia watched him carefully.

Stiles brought the mark to his lips and kissed it softly. “There,” he said, his voice rough. “All better.”

Lydia didn’t say anything, continuing to watch Stiles.

The lights went out, slowly flickering into darkness. Both Stiles and Lydia looked up, searching for an explanation as to why they had suddenly been plunged in darkness. The new moon did little to relieve the immense darkness that the pair had suddenly found themselves in.

Stiles stumbled blindly to the shutters, hoping to throw some light on the situation. After nearly tripping over several times and subbing his toe on a desk, he made it over to the window. Pulling the shutters open he discovered the entire suburb had suffered the same fate. “Power outage,” he muttered.

This dim light from a few blocks away was enough for Lydia to see the dim outline of objects. She found the bag that she had dropped in the shock of being caught by Stiles and rifled through it.

“Where is it? Where is it?”

Stiles was about to ask Lydia what she was looking for when she pulled out a small flashlight. She flicked it on, nearly blinding Stiles in the process. “Sorry!”

Stiles shrugged, blinking light spots from his vision. “At least now one of us can see,” he joked weakly. “Wow, you really came prepared.” He walked over to the abandoned bag sitting innocently on the desk and peered into it.

“I’m surprised you don’t have a black balaclava.” He reached into the bag, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Hey, don’t you know never to go into a woman’s bag,” Lydia protested.

Stiles didn’t reply. His mind was focused on the square foil packet he held in his hands. Lydia snatched it away, breaking his paralysis.

“Visiting Aiden later are we?”

To his amusement, she blushed. “That’s none of your business.”

“Um yeah it kinda is,” he protested. “You’re part of Scott’s pack. You can’t go round sleeping with the enemy.”

“He’s not _my_ enemy. Besides, why do you care who I see?”

“Because-“ Stiles looked around frantically for a second before deciding upon a course of action. Looking into Lydia’s eyes he leaned in. At the last second his eyes closed before he kissed her roughly, trying to convey his need and longing in that one kiss.

He felt her brief shock and hesitation. Then she kissed him back passionately. Without breaking the kiss Stiles sat back on the desk, his legs apart. Lydia stood in between them. With Stiles being almost twenty centimetres taller than her normally, this new position put them on the same level.

Skilfully Lydia pulled off Stiles’ shirt. She ran her hands down his chest. It was muscled, Lydia registered in surprise. She was so used to being around werewolf hunks that she hadn’t realised how much above normal people Stiles ranked.

Stiles slid back on the desk, his lower legs hung off the desk while his upper leg rested on the cool desktop. As he moved, he dimly registered objects falling off the desk. He paid them no notice.

Lydia followed him onto the desk. She gracefully straddled Stiles and resumed kissing him. He twisted a lock of her hair in his hands. She gripped her hand tightly in the short hair at the back of his head. He cupped her face.

“I care about you. I always will,” Stiles whispered.

Lydia pulled away. “Stiles I can’t. I’m with Aiden.”

Heartbreak and confusion was evident on Stiles’ face. Lydia still sat on his upper thighs, gazing down as him.

“Then what are we doing?” he asked, his voice coarse with held back emotion. “Is this just a game to you?”

“Stiles no. You are never a game to me. I don’t know what happened.” Lydia blinked, as if to clear her thoughts. “I just-“

“No.” Stiles sat up. His face was now close to Lydia’s. “You can’t just go around messing with people’s emotions.” He didn’t raise his voice, but that almost made it worse somehow. Lydia flinched and extracted herself from his lap.

“Stiles I-“

“Shh.” He held up a single finger, silencing her. “Hide,” he hissed.

Stiles raced around, putting his shirt back on and slipping his wrist back into the handcuff. Just as he had done this the office door opened. It was the sheriff.

“So Stiles, I trust that you learnt your lesson?”

Stiles nodded. His father came over and unlocked the cuff, first from the table and then from Stiles’ wrist. He glanced at the cuffs, smoothing his thumb over the small scratches on the smooth metal.

“Is everything ok?” Stiles asked innocently.

Sheriff Stilinski put the handcuffs down. “I could have sworn…” He shook his head. “Never mind.” His sharp eyes glanced down at the mess of paper that lay scattered around the desk but he decided not to say anything.

They exited the room, Stiles’ father locking the door behind them. Stiles glanced back, heaving a sigh of relief as Lydia’s bag disappeared out of view and under the desk.

“Is your shirt on inside out?” Sheriff Stilinski asked as he guided Stiles to the car.

 

 

 


	2. Mysteries

Lydia shook her head. Her encounter with Stiles was completely unexpected, yet not unpleasant, and it left her head and heart churning. She crouched under the desk for a little longer.

A small chime filled the air. Lydia jumped, her nerves wired from the adrenaline of almost being caught. She bumped her head against the top of the desk and bit her lip to force herself to remain silent.

She reached into her back. Idiotically she had forgotten to turn her phone off after a particularly cute text from her favourite hunk Aiden had caused this detail to slip her mind.

“Where are you babe?” The text read.

Lydia’s fingers flew. “On my way. See you soon.” She pressed send and turned the phone off.

Why was she here? Stiles’ questions echoed in her mind, a question she could not answer. She was here for only reasons only she could settle.

Satisfied that there was no one around, Lydia extracted herself from underneath the desk. Her cramped muscles protested the change after so long a time of being still. She shook her legs out, getting rid on the pins and needles. Using her flashlight, she padded her way silently to the filing cabinet.

She gazed at it steadily. The hurt look on Stiles’ face was a hard image to banish from her memory. Lydia blinked and shook her head, as if a physical action could stifle these thoughts.

Although there were case files and other sheets of information lying scattered around the office, Lydia knew that the information she needed would be locked away. P. P for Parrish.

She sighed. The handsome young deputy was a mystery unsolved; and Lydia hated mysteries. He had guessed at her psychic nature without even blinking an eye. As most people did these days, if he was living in Beacon Hills the chances were high that he had a supernatural past. Lydia just wanted to know what it was.

She had turned over the puzzle of Parrish in her mind often since their first encounter. In her mind she considered what she knew about him: he was drawn here, possibly by a supernatural force, but while he doesn’t believe in the supernatural he likes to keep an open mind. She couldn’t tell whether or not that last line was flirting. It had to be a coincidence that when Parrish showed up, Lydia began to see the death of Stiles.

Lydia pulled out her lock picks and frowned down at them. Somewhere in her encounter with Stiles the delicate metal had become squashed and bent out of shape. It wasn’t hard for Lydia to bend them back but she knew these hastily adapted picks were nowhere near as good as the originals. As a result it took her twice as long with these than it had when she’d practiced opening filing cabinets at home.

The file on Parrish wasn’t hard to find. The yellow folder was neatly labelled and placed in alphabetical order. Lydia carefully removed the file, careful not to disturb the others. She wanted to leave no evidence that she was here. That reminded her, she should probably clean up the paper she and Stiles had knocked off the desk.

The file was too light. That should have been her first clue. She opened the folder, expecting to find resumes or background checks or records of what exactly it was that Parrish did everyday but instead the feather light folder was empty of even a single sheet of paper.

Lydia placed the file back. She searched around the nearby files in case who ever had organised them wasn’t nearly as good as filing as she was. Still there was nothing but the information belonging to their respective files. There was no evidence of Parrish’s existence save for the name on an empty file. She smoothly slid the draw of the cabinet back into the unit, frustrated with her failure.

She had been so absorbed with finding out Parrish’s secrets that she hadn’t noticed the shadowy figure peering in through the open shutters.

Lydia froze. Silently she cursed herself. Everything that could have possibly gone wrong did, and a little extra. The male figure at the window was still too. Lydia was hoping that she imagined it, closing her eyes briefly and then opening then. The figure still remained.

She had been so careless and reckless. She was on good enough terms with the sheriff that she could explain her way out of trouble but it shouldn’t have had to come to that.

Without taking her eyes off the window, she reached down to find her bag. Gripping it, she straightened and backed slowly to the office wall. Whoever was there knew who she was, but if she turned her torch on them she could find out who they were.

Fumbling with the button, she held her flashlight up and pointed it into the face of the person at the window.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that this chapter is so short but I was inspired by a question left in the comments. I felt I had to answer that questions so here is chapter two. Also I hope that you don't mind that I screwed around with the timelines. There may be a third chapter if inspiration strikes :)


	3. Rescue

The man at the window flinched and covered his eyes with his arm. Lydia rolled her eyes. When trying to identify someone it was helpful if they didn’t hide their face.

She directed the light downwards a bit, relieving the stranger of the harsh light in their eyes. As soon as she did, they lowered their arm. It was now easy for Lydia to identify the figure. Aiden.

She rushed over to the window and pulled it open. “What are you doing here? You nearly scared me half to death.”

“No I wouldn’t have. You would have predicted that,” he teased. His voice floated softly through the window. Even though he didn’t know why she was there he understood the importance of keeping his voice down.

“Why are you here?”

He shrugged. “I figured that whatever you were doing, you could probably use some help. So I followed your scent and here I am.”

Even though Lydia was used to running with a werewolf pack, it still disconcerted her how easily people like Scott and Aiden were able to find her. “That’s sweet and all but I can do this on my own. I don’t need you to protect me.”

“Yes you do,” he insisted. “Who knows what’s hanging around? Who knows what is lurking in the dark. Do you think this blackout is natural?” He pushed the window open wider and pulled himself through, far more gracefully than Lydia ever could have. His feet landed softly.

Lydia faltered. She hadn’t even considered it. True, for the most part she had been distracted by Stiles but Lydia prided herself on having a sharp and intelligent mind that could focus on multiple tasks at once. With a tone of offence leaking into her voice she remarked, “I had no reason to believe it unnatural.”

Aiden quirked up one side of his mouth. “In Beacon Hills? No way.”

“I’m dreaming, I know.”

Aiden’s hand gripped Lydia’s for comfort. “There’s no reason for you to be involved in this.”

“I’m a banshee,” Lydia pointed out. “I’m already involved.”

“True.” He paused. “Maybe I can divert your attention. Did you know that nine months after a blackout there is an increase in the amount of births?”

Lydia grinned despite herself and shoved her werewolf playfully. “And I would hope you’d be more careful than that.”

Aiden seemed to take her response as an agreement and pulled her over to the desk. Even while passionately making out with her werewolf hunk, part of her mind was racing, figuring out her next move. She found herself leaning back on the table.

Abruptly Lydia jumped up, nearly hitting Aiden in the nose. “Not here,” she whispered, her voice rough. She was glad that the darkness hid the redness in her cheeks. She couldn’t forget that before Aiden had come, things were getting hot and heavy with Stiles on this very desk.

Aiden didn’t seem to think anything was odd about her request. In fact it probably made sense to him; why run the risk of being caught by the sheriff when there was a perfectly comfortable and very available bedroom, not too far off.

Aiden lifted Lydia through the window, placing her down gently on the soft grass outside. Then he swung through the space with ease, despite his much larger size.

Lydia guided them to her Prius. Of course Aiden had run here but for where she had in mind she wanted to drive.

“Where are we going?”

“The lake house.”

 

People swarmed the police station. After the Sheriff had left, he had armed the building. Shortly after he left he received a message from the security company saying that they’d had a break in.

Entering the building cautiously, they found the filing cabinet open and the window of the sheriff’s office to be unlocked.

“It was opened from the inside,” Deputy Parrish remarked. “And they obviously wanted something.” Silently he pointed out the filing cabinet and the mess of the desk.

The sheriff made a mental note to ask Stiles if there were any ghosts in Beacon Hills. Then he dismissed the idea, ghosts didn’t use lock picks.

“Whatever they wanted, they weren’t very subtle about it.” Sheriff Stilinski quickly located the tiny scratches around the lock of the cabinet draw. He pulled open the draw and saw immediately that one file had been placed in backwards, it little plastic tab sticking out as a marker.

He showed it to Parrish. “Whoever they were, they wanted you.”

Parrish tried to show the right amount of concern while thinking quickly. He knew that his file was empty, whoever had come had learned nothing but that there was a mystery surrounding the deputy. But were they friend or foe?

From outside an officer remarked, “We have footprints.”

A pair of small feet and a pair of larger ones showed the path the intruders had taken through the grass. They were sloppy; they had forgotten to hide their tracks.

Whoever they were, they were no professionals, Sheriff Stilinski reflected.


	4. The Lake House

Lydia and Aiden rushed to the car. Darkness shadowed their retreat as they noticed movement at the station. Once more Lydia cursed herself for being so foolish. She had known the station had an alarm, she’d even checked it, but with everything that had happened she hadn’t considered that the sheriff might re-arm the station.

Obviously the mess she’d caused seemed to be of great interest to many people. The sheriff and deputy Parrish had showed up, despite the late hour, to see what had set of the alarm.

Equally interested was Aiden.

Whilst the two of them sat in the car, Lydia waited for her heart rate to slow. Aiden snagged her around the waist and leaned in close.

“So are you going to tell me what you were doing at the police station? We had plans you know.”

She sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. But this was important. Besides, I can more than make up for our lost plans.”

Aiden grinned. Then he frowned slightly. “You’re avoiding the question. Usually even if you have things to do without telling me you manage to finish up in time for our dates. I’ve never known you to skimp on your daily planning.”

“There were… complications.”

“Supernatural complications?”

“More like supernaturally annoying inconveniences.” When Aiden showed no sign of understanding she added, “Stiles was there.”

“Stiles? Did he come with you?” Aiden was frowning now.

“No he just happened to be there.”

Aiden found this to be weird but didn’t ask. He had thought Lydia and Stiles were friends. It was also clear to him that Stiles wanted more than that. But Aiden thought Lydia hadn’t know that. Maybe they’d had a fight? It would explain why Lydia seemed so jumpy and flustered and unorganised.

“But everything’s ok now isn’t it?”

Lydia sighed. With her eyes closed she ran her hands across her forehead outwards until they reached her temples. “I found what I was looking for, but I am no closer to understanding.”

Aiden was quiet for a moment before saying, “the people seem to have left the station. I’m sure it’s safe for you to drive now.”

Lydia buckled her seatbelt and turned the engine on. The car hummed to life and she drew smoothly away, heading towards the lake house.

Aiden let her think. He even put up with her somewhat annoying music playing for the duration of the trip. Lydia remained silent, and Aiden didn’t push her. She obviously had something on her mind.

It was times like these that he wished he were normal. That he wasn’t part of an opposing werewolf pack. But if he was normal, would he have met Lydia? And if he was normal, would Lydia be? Or would she still be a banshee? He shook his head slightly to clear it. It was no good worrying about what ifs; they just had to sort out the present.

Even in her distracted state, Lydia’s driving was still flawless and in no time they pulled up in front of the lake house. The car rolled over the gravel road, the rocks crunching together under the weight. Lydia turned the engine and lights off, jumped out of the car and pulled her bag out from the back seat. She shut the door and locked it.

Over the water the moon shone brightly, providing Lydia with enough light to see by. She found herself wondering more and more about the powers the werewolves seemed to possess, how useful they would be. The only downside was turning into a murderous monster every full moon. She laughed softly at herself; she had enough difficulties being a banshee without adding werewolf to her repertoire.

Lydia looked at the moon. It was nearly full. “Are you going to be ok?” She asked Aiden.

“I’m fine. Trust me; I’ve had a lot of practice.”

They entered the empty house. Lydia flicked on lights as she went, hating to think of someone lurking in the dark. At least she had Aiden to protect her. Once the house felt homier, she settled herself on the couch. Aiden came back from his perimeter search and slid in next to her.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“It’s nothing.” She was silent for a minute before looking up at Aiden. “I don’t want to think anymore.”

He gave a wolfish grin. “Now that is something I can take care of.” His hands gripped her slim wrists, pulling her towards him. He kissed her lips, and then trailed kissed from her neck to her ear. He bit down softly, playing with it.

Lydia leaned back and exhaled softly. Aiden released her hands. With her newly freed arms Lydia wrapped her hands in Aiden’s hair as his hands began to wander. Skilfully they tugged at the hem of Lydia’s shirt, while she kicked off her heels and wrapped her legs around Aiden. Her hands were busy with Aiden’s chest, running under his shirt to feel his muscles. Then his shirt too came off.

Their eyes met. “You look beautiful,” Aiden growled softly. To him, Lydia, with her hair wild, spread across the couch in a bra and pants, seemed amazing. They had both developed feelings for each other, perhaps even loved each other. But Lydia couldn’t forget what was distracting her.

Aiden tried his best to make her forget. And it worked. He pulled her in closed and soon it seemed like it was only the two of them left in the world, that if they stepped outside of the house they wouldn’t see another soul. They fell together, blissfully letting go of their worries for a brief moment.

Lydia opened her eyes to see Aiden wandering around shirtless, just wearing jeans. He had covered her with a blanket and was making himself a sandwich.

“Hey,” she said softly.

Aiden looked over at her. “Do you want one?”

“I’m alright.” Lydia sat up. Slowly her good mood was beginning to wear off. “Aiden?” She called out.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think we’re alone.” Her eyes were fixed on the shadowy face that had just vanished from the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> exams finished and ideas started, hopefully more content should be coming soon... just have to sort through the tangle of new ideas that has suddenly hit.


	5. Intruder

The reaction was almost instant. Aiden rushed in, following her eye line to the window. Without saying a word he pushed open the door and ran into the dark.

There was a loud yell and a scrabbling on gravel before Aiden marched in. Behind him, looking a little sheepish was Scott.

“Scott? What are you doing here? What’s going on?” Lydia felt out of the loop, a sensation she didn’t like.

“Something’s wrong,” Scott said.

 _Stiles_. Lydia felt faint. But surely her banshee powers would have told her if he was dead.

“Ethan found Parrish unconscious. Stiles is missing. And the blackout the whole town is experiencing is still going on. We don’t know what caused it but I know it wasn’t through any electrical fault.”

“But if Ethan…” Aiden trailed off, looking concerned.

Scott nodded. “Yes, that’s another thing. Our powers seem to be growing weaker, even as the full moon grows stronger.”

“Wait,” Lydia said. “So you can’t connect to your brother and neither of you can sense the other?”

Scott nodded while Aiden shook his head. When Scott looked at him Aiden said, “I could sense you, but I didn’t know it was you. You didn’t seem like a wolf to me anymore.”

Lydia looked up at the ceiling as the light began to flicker. “Maybe whatever is causing this blackout is causing you to lose your powers. We’ve been here for a few hours so Aiden would have had the chance to replenish, but you Scott have been stuck in the centre of it since the beginning.”

Scott nodded. “Well that makes sense. But how is it caused then? And how does it drain our powers?”

“I don’t know,” Aiden said, “but it seems to be spreading.”

The lights dimmed even further. From the kitchen they heard a bulb blow.

“And here I thought it was just mood lighting,” Scott joked.

Lydia turned to Scott. “How did you know we were here?” she demanded.

“I didn’t. I looked for Stiles, but I couldn’t find him. Then I looked for you and Aiden but when I couldn’t find you two I figured you might be at the lake house.”

“Well next time maybe don’t creep around. We do have a doorbell you know.”

“Yeah like that wouldn’t have scared you,” Aiden muttered.

“I’m sorry,” Scott said. “I had to be sure it was you two. With my powers this low I wouldn’t want to be walking into a trap.”

This seemed like a reasonable excuse so she let Scott off the hook. “Now if you two would excuse me, I’m going to go and get changed.”

Lydia walked out, stopping briefly to collect her clothes from where Aiden had left them on the car. Aiden snagged his shirt and pulled it on, stealing a kiss from Lydia as she went by.

The two wolves watched each other as they waited for Lydia to return.

“I know we’re not exactly on the same side,” Scott began. “But I’m sure we’re working towards the same goal.”

Aiden nodded his agreement. “This blackout thing doesn’t seem to discriminate. Ethan is hit by it too and I know we all want our powers back.”

“So it’s not your pack then?”

“It’s not yours?” Aiden shot back. “Why would we do this? No, this is not our style. It hits everyone. I don’t even know where someone would get such power.”

Scott sighed. “Nor do I,” he admitted.

“So what do we do?”

“I think we have to find the source. We can ask Lydia to use her banshee powers to -”

At that moment Lydia walked into the room, looking pale and dazed. “I can’t feel anything. My powers are gone.”

The failing light bulb went out.

Scott cursed under his breath. “It’s spreading.”

Aiden, the only one of the three to still have any powers, led Lydia and Scott through the house and out to where Lydia had parked the car. Once in the car, they turned on the light and began to plan.

“So Aiden and his pack and my pack will try to find the source,” Scott was saying. “Lydia, once you drop us off you will drive to the edge of the perimeter. Follow it and see where it goes. Perhaps whatever is causing this is at the centre. You will also have access to your powers. Use them to try and see. Anything could be useful.”

Lydia buried her face in Aiden’s shoulder. “You guys watch out for each other ok? I don’t want anything to happen to either of you.”

Lydia drove into the centre of town and dropped the werewolves at a pack meeting. Then, feeling incredibly lonely, she followed the road out of town.

A few miles out she saw a ripple across the road. There seemed to be no one else around so she pulled the car over to the side and got out. Carefully she walked across over to the ripple.

It had the appearance of a soap bubble and emitted a faint whining sound. Lydia reached out a trembling hand to it. It had the consistency of custard. When she pushed gently, her hand went right through. It tickled her fingers and she felt the odd urge to sneeze. This disappeared as soon as she withdrew her hand.

Taking a deep breath she stepped through the bubble. Her whole body tingled. Her lungs began to rebel, to demand air. She fought through the length of the bubble and finally emerged on a piece of road that looked identical to that just a few feet behind her.

Almost immediately her mind was flooded with the voices of the dead. Their shadowy phantom faces pressed against the edges of her consciousness. The sheer number and force of them caused her to drop to her knees with a scream. A scream that ordinarily would have alerted the highly sensitive hearing of werewolves to her presence, if there were even any werewolves left in Beacon Hills.


	6. Trapped

Miles away, outside of Beacon Hills, werewolves heard the sound of Lydia’s scream. She continued to scream and scream until she collapsed, tears running down her cheeks. The noise caused many werewolves to prick up their ears in interest, wondering what could have possibly brought about this sound.

Two werewolves take a particular interest. One, an Alpha of a small pack stops to listen until the sound dies down. An Omega hears the sound. He immediately abandons his hunt to track the sound.

While Lydia is unconscious the spirits take the opportunity to sort themselves out. Lydia’s mind is forced to remain in shut down as the process all the new thoughts entering her head.

When she wakes, Lydia is able to sort out the spirits in her mind. Pushing aside the others, she reaches for the voices that call to her, the ones who seem to know who she is.

_moon_

_mind control_

_midnight_

_before it is too late_

Lydia’s nose begins to bleed with the effort. The spirits are confusing and their snatches of conversation raise more questions than they answer.

“Who are you?” she asked.

 _There,_ they all say in unison.

“What?”

_Behind you_

Lydia spun around and gasped as bright blue eyes shone out at her through the dark. Her muscles tensed as she tried to make a sprint for the barrier, and her car. But the mysterious wolf blocked her every move, his speed far outranking her own.

Finally, exhausted, Lydia said, “What do you want? You can’t turn me so you may as well kill me.”

“I don’t want to kill you,” the unknown wolf said slowly. “I want to help.”

“How could you possibly help me?” Lydia tried to sound bored but inside she was excited. This werewolf had come to _her_ to help her. She didn’t need to hide behind Aiden or Stile.

“I know what’s causing the bubble. I know how to stop it as well.”

“How?”

He shook his head. “I’m not going to just go around giving information like that away for free now would I?”

“What do you want?”

“I want to cross the border.”

“What?” Lydia was confused. Couldn’t he pass through the bubble?

“I need you to help me cross.”

“What are you going to do once you’re in there?”

“That’s my own business,” he said mysteriously.

Lydia looked up into his blue eyes. He had killed before, that much she knew for certain. But could she trust him. She drew in a breath and made a decision. “Fine. What do I have to do?”

“You must cross while holding onto me. Do not break the contact until both of us are fully through,” he instructed.

“Why? What would happen if I let go?” Lydia demanded.

“Both of us would be caught in limbo.”

“Alright,” Lydia grumbled. “This information better be worth it.”

“Trust me it is.”

“How can I trust you? I don’t even know your name.”

“Matthew,” he said quietly. “My name is Matthew.”

“Ok Matthew, take my hand.” Lydia extended her arm, wrapping her delicate fingers around the strangers wrist. She took a deep breath then forced herself through the bubble. This time it felt like ice. She felt a strong urge to drop Matthew’s wrist and punch her way through the wall. Only a few seconds later the feeling was gone and she had passed through the wall.

Lydia wrenched her hand away, or more like she tried to. Her hand felt like it was on fire as she struggled, and apparently Matthew felt the same given his growl.

“What’s going on?” Lydia asked, bewildered.

“Stop struggling,” Matthew instructed. Lydia did and instantly the pain stopped. Matthew sighed. “I guess I’m not meant to be here. You can’t let go of me until I’m back outside the wall.”

“What?” Lydia shrieked. “But I need this hand.”

“Consider it on loan.” He smirked.

“Fine,” Lydia huffed. “But now that you’re through you have to hold up your end of the bargain.”

Matthew nodded. “You’re not going to like it though.”

“I don’t care.”

“Well the thing is, a rival pack has decided to make Beacon Hills their own.”

“So?” Lydia shrugged. “It’s not like that hasn’t happened before. We’ve dealt with it.”

“This is different. They were strong to begin with but now? They’ve absorbed the power of other packs.”

“Absorbed? Wait what?”

“It’s already beginning to happen here. Do you know any werewolves? Wait of course you do. Have you noticed that they’re becoming steadily weaker?”

Lydia looked unsure. “Yes…?”

“That’s them. This other pack sucks the power from rival packs and leaves them as omegas, or worse dead – if you’re the alpha that is. Their bodies can’t stand the whiplash of being sucked of their power. And by midnight that state is permanent. It also helps that they can’t escape out of the little dome they’ve been imprisoned in.”

Lydia stood in stunned silence, contemplating the new facts. “So those spirits outside the bubble? They were once alphas?”

Matthew nodded. “And their power is used to gain more power. It’s a vicious cycle.”

“We’ll have to stop them.”


End file.
